


Bran's Nightmares

by LucyCrewe11 (Raphaela_Crowley)



Category: Jack and the Beanstalk: The Real Story (TV)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raphaela_Crowley/pseuds/LucyCrewe11
Summary: Ondine is on her way to Jack's world, to find the lost goose and harp, but she goes to say goodbye to Bran first. She feels sorry for him; he's still having nightmares.
Relationships: Bran & Ondine





	Bran's Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Just a little missing scene, as I think it could have happened. Ondine leaving Giant World to meet the "last Jack" for the first time, saying goodbye to Bran before she goes. Because, honestly, I don't think she would have left without saying goodbye to him.

It was a little over a year, and Bran still had nightmares. Almost every night. Nothing to the ones the generations of Robinsons endured when their time was running out, but bad enough in their own way.

This, perhaps, was not so surprising. After all, he _too_ had suffered -and without cause, without curse- the loss of a father before his natural time.

The dream was always the same, or very nearly.

Him, crying out, "Let him go, Father, let him go!" But he never listened; the reply was, "With no goose and harp, we have no world. We need them...or we'll die..."

...And Thunderdell, going after Jack, tried to climb down the beanstalk...

Then it was cut, disappearing out from under him.

Ondine, the human-sized woman who was like a sister to Bran, still and stern with fear, watching her adoptive father nearly falling to his demise, said, "Pull him up, Bran."

He caught his father's hand in the nick of time, but he was heavy -a little _too_ heavy- and he couldn't pull him back up, only hold him there, dangling from the edge so helplessly.

When Thunderdell, seeing the inevitable, told him to let go, Bran refused. Just about every night, Bran refused. Over and over again. Yet, his hand always slipped all the same.

And his ears rung with his own sobs, and the last words Thunderdell had ever said to him: "Bran, you are good of heart."

_Good of heart..._ _Good of heart... Good of heart..._

Bran's eyes opened.

A little hand touched his giant index finger. "Bran, wake up. It's all right. I'm here."

Ondine was crouched beside his giant form.

She looked so different now. In the days when Thunderdell was alive, she'd had long hair and gone about with a smile on her face all the time; a smile that had only been all the brighter when Jack was with them, before he betrayed their world. Now, everything about her was different. That stern, broken expression on her face from the moment Thunderdell fell had never left her.

Or had it come earlier? Had it come the very minute she realized Jack had lied to her and stolen the goose and the harp for himself, smuggling them back to his world below, to impress his mother?

Her hair was cropped short, like a boy's. Like Bran's own, only smaller. She had sold it all back in the early days before the effects of the stolen goose and harp plunged the entire land into a complete famine. And her clothing consisted of breeches and tunics and sensible-looking cloaks, instead of her old breezy springtime dresses.

"Hello, Ondine," murmured Bran, sitting up -Ondine quickly moved out of the way- and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I'm leaving, Bran."

It was then that he realized she had a pack with her. She'd come to say goodbye.

"Magog says it's time."

Bran looked sadly down at her and shook his head.

He had known, that even if his father had done the impossible and survived the fall, he would have been long dead by now. Time passed differently in the world below.

For every year down there, only a single day passed here.

If Thunderdell _had_ lived, Bran knew he would have never given up trying to get the treasures back from Jack; and he would have been discovered, a giant, roaming that world where everyone was the size of Ondine, where giants were only a thing of their fables and folklore.

No, Thunderdell had died. And the only thing after their treasures now was the Robinson curse. The curse on the family of the man who had stolen what was not his and killed an innocent.

"So they're sending you?" Bran double-checked.

She nodded. "I'm going to talk to him, get the truth, make him tell me where the treasures are. Maybe I can return things back to the way they're supposed to be, before we all die."

"But Jack is dead," said Bran slowly.

"His last descendant isn't," Ondine reminded him. "If he was, our world would be healed already. The last Jack is turning forty years of age. His time is almost over. And, if he has no heir, maybe he'll give it up."

"What happens if he does not?" asked Bran.

"I seek the treasures on my own," Ondine said, with an anxious shrug.

"And if you can't find them?"

"Then Magog says I'm to bring him back here with me, to stand trial." She reached into her pack and pulled out two glowing vials. Taking a few steps back, Ondine nodded somberly. "I'll return soon, hopefully with the treasures."

Bran had to shield his eyes from the flash of bright light when she smashed the two vials together, disappearing.

Soon she would return... Soon they would have closure... Soon they would have either the treasures themselves, or the power they'd stood for, back in their world.

Bran only hoped for two things. One, that Ondine would be able to endure it. Jack's betrayal had hit her the hardest; she was scarred from the experience. And, two, that his own nightmares would end along with those of the last Jack.


End file.
